


Stranglethorn Swamp Juice

by Jaakkola



Series: Jaakko Listened to a Song and Wrote About It (and Now That's Your Problem) [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Caretaking, Dubious Drinks, Fever, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaakkola/pseuds/Jaakkola
Summary: Shaw squeezed the insides of the plant into the pot of water, watching the strange consistency of the watery chunks that came from the firm green shell.It looked... unappetizing, to say the least.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Series: Jaakko Listened to a Song and Wrote About It (and Now That's Your Problem) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967953
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Stranglethorn Swamp Juice

**Author's Note:**

> work gave me a free drink so horrid to look at that im afraid to drink it, so i wrote this and gave it a title that ive been kicking around for month.
> 
> i've been singing [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sc4SIEt1kTc) to myself for a while so hopefully with this it ejects out of my head.

Shaw ran a hand through his damp hair. It had been a while since he was used to jungle humidity. His leathers chafed his skin as he sweat, making him generally uncomfortable as he made his way back to camp. How quickly it made him missed the cool weather of Kul Tiras.

Stranglethorn was buzzing, alive with every insect imaginable as the sun started to set. While Shaw had slathered himself with mud to ward off the bulk of bugs, at dusk he would be at the mercy of all the bloodsuckers in the jungle. Hopefully the fire hadn't burned out entirely while he was gone, he rather not have to spend too long rebuilding it. It had been a long day, crossing the jungle to the nearest Alliance camp and back again, and Shaw wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bedroll. Unfortunately, there were more pressing matters to attend to first.

The camp was small, with two tents on either side of a fire pit. The logs had long since been burned out, a charred shell now. Shaw took up the large stick beside one of the tents to prod the logs, watching them fall apart with little effort. He was thankful for his foresight to gather extra kindling yesterday, pull from piles of thick branches and thin ones, throwing them in the fire pit. With a handful of dry kindling in the center, the coals ignited once more. He crouched beside the pit until he was certain it wouldn't burn out, and then looked to one of the tents.

Shaw stood, moving to the other tent, his tent. He pulled the cast iron pot that sat near the tent flap, and moved from the camp. It was a four minute walk to the nearest source of water, a river that flowed west. He glanced upstream, seeing nothing of concern, and dipped the pot into the water. With the water level a bit higher than half, he headed back to camp. Curious insects buzzed around Shaw's head, and with his hands full, there was nothing he could do than try to blow them away when they got close to his nose and mouth.

Shaw situated the pot on a coal bed when he returned, nudging aside some of the branches to do so. With it steady, he left the water to boil and went over to the first tent. He pulled the flap open, heart aching a bit at the sight before him. "How are you doing?" Shaw asked, voice hoarse. He got no response, and Shaw carefully edged himself into the tent. Something had taken hold of Flynn while they traveled through the cape, and now the man was bedridden from fever, moments of lucidity limited. His hair stuck to his damp skin, completely soaked through. "Flynn?" Shaw asked, cupping his face with a hand. Flynn stirred slightly at his touch. He would have to be content with that. Shaw moved his hand, pushing away the hair that stuck to Flynn's forehead before pressing the back of his hand against it. He was burning up, to the point where it almost hurt to touch him— LIght, this could get bad if his fever didn't break soon.

"I have something that should help your fever," Shaw said, voice quiet. "Just hang in there."

Flynn mumbled something that Shaw didn't even attempt to discern. It had been a while since Flynn managed to string together something coherent, if he was making words at all. Shaw had begun to dread the silence in his absence, interestingly enough. How quickly he was accustomed to Flynn's company and incessant chatter that he missed it once Flynn was down for the count.

Shaw moved out of the tent, pushing the damp fringes of his hair from his face. He couldn't wait for Flynn to get better so they could get the hell out of here. Stranglethorn was an alright place in small doses, and Shaw's dose was no longer small. He took a seat beside the fire and waited for the water to boil. While he sat, he opened his bag, pulling out the package wrapped in cloth. He pulled the cloth aside, looking at the plant he was given. It was a thick, severed chunk of a green plant; if it was apart of the stem or was the leaf of the plant, Shaw wasn't entirely sure. He wasn't keen on using plants he wasn't familiar with, especially if Flynn was to be ingesting it, but options were limited right now, and the plant came from an Alliance medic.

As the water neared boiling, Shaw investigated the inside of the plant, seeing the somewhat translucent innards. He gave the plant a careful, gentle squeeze, and the insides of the plant oozed out slightly. It reminded him of swiftthistle, the plant known for its properties in reinvigorating one quickly, even in the midst of a fight. Swiftthistle, however, was far more prickly than this plant was. Perhaps the plants were related.

Shaw squeezed the insides of the plant into the pot of water, watching the strange consistency of the watery chunks that came from the firm green shell. It looked... unappetizing, to say the least. He threw the rest of the plant in the fire and pulled a knife from his belt, using it to stir the contents of the cast iron pot. There were no sounds other than the crackling of the fire, Shaw's knife occasionally hitting the sides of the pot, and the songs of a thousand bugs.

Once the water had a consistent viscosity, the plant and water properly mixing together with the help of the heat, Shaw pulled the pot from the fire. He got up once again, heading to Flynn's tent. He opened the tent flap, glancing inside and trying not to lock onto Flynn. He found Flynn's canteen among his bedroll, taking it and exiting the tent once again. Shaw had filled it before he left this morning, and it was now entirely empty, which was some sort of good news. At least he was still able to drink.

Shaw went to his tent and retrieved the ladle, moving back to the pot. He waited with all the patience he could muster for it to cool before he scooped up some of the water, and as he held the canteen over the pot, he carefully poured the water into Flynn's canteen. Just looking at the mixture of plant water, Shaw could tell that Flynn would not be happy to drink this. Well, if he got well enough to complain about it, then Shaw would be pleased to point out the reason why.

With a full canteen, Shaw crossed back to Flynn's tent. "Flynn," he said as he pulled open the tent flap, crawling inside. He placed a hand on Flynn's shoulder, giving him a firm shake. "C'mon, up."

Flynn stirred with a discontent grumble, eyes opening with clear reluctance. Shaw gave him a moment, waiting for Flynn's eyes to fall on Shaw with some sense of recognition. It took longer than it did this morning, and a seed of worry took root within Shaw. "I have something for you to drink," Shaw said, pulling Flynn up. Flynn struggled to keep himself balanced with it, digging his elbows into his bedroll. Light, he looked to be on death's door itself, skin red and hair soaked as if he was pulled from the ocean's surface.

Shaw held Flynn's canteen to his lips, tilting it slowly. Flynn swallowed once, then twice, then pushed the canteen away with a grimace. "Flynn," Shaw said, trying to cultivate the patience this endeavor would require. Flynn shook his head, using an arm to cover his mouth. "Do you want to get better or not?" Shaw asked.

It took a minute for Flynn to concede, and over the course of the next twenty, Flynn did his best to swallow it down the contents of the canteen, clearly hating every moment that passed. Shaw murmured soothing praise whenever Flynn started to struggle with it, either suddenly choking on the water or pushing it away for a breather. If Flynn was in a better state, there would undoubtedly be no end to the hyperbolic monologue of his opinion on what he just drank, but as he was, the only thing he mustered after he emptied the canteen was a weak, "gross."

Which, well, was better than the silence. "I didn't make it with the thought of you enjoying it," Shaw said in a quiet murmur. "Do you think you could drink any more?"

Flynn didn't answer right away. His eyes gave a clear _absolutely not,_ while the rest of him hesitated with thought. Eventually, he shook his head. Light, Shaw thought as he pushed Flynn's hair back again, he looked absolutely miserable. "Get some rest," Shaw said, running his hand down to Flynn's cheek again. He lingered as Flynn closed his eyes and leaned into Shaw's touch. He ached to press a kiss to Flynn, but Shaw had no idea if what Flynn had was contagious, and he'd rather not find out firsthand. "Love you," he said as he pulled away. Flynn made a hum of affirmation, and Shaw left him to rest, venturing out once again to the buzzing jungle to watch the fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about not posting, I've got something BIG coming. I'm a third of the way through the rough draft and i want it done by sometime September.


End file.
